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Musings of a dad, writer, gamer, and 3-time end of the world survivorWed, 30 Sep 2015 16:14:57 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.5.7deguiahttps://feedburner.google.comRemembering Uncle Mike, a Gruff Biker With a Big Hearthttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/tAVA71nxPbo/
http://www.deguia.net/2015/09/08/remembering-uncle-mike-a-gruff-biker-with-a-big-heart/#respondTue, 08 Sep 2015 15:46:51 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8791Last May, my wife and I took a trip up to Idaho to visit my parents, attend our nephew’s high school graduation, and also to visit my Uncle Mike for probably the last time. There’s a statue on display in my Uncle Mike’s living room, just to the left of their TV. It’s the “End […]]]>

Uncle Mike, Elko, NV, 2007.

Last May, my wife and I took a trip up to Idaho to visit my parents, attend our nephew’s high school graduation, and also to visit my Uncle Mike for probably the last time. There’s a statue on display in my Uncle Mike’s living room, just to the left of their TV. It’s the “End of the Trail” statue by artist James Earle Fraser, and you’ve probably seen it before, “Seated upon a windblown horse, Fraser’s figure slumps over despondently, embodying the physical exhaustion and suffering of a people forcefully driven to the end of the trail.”

Uncle Mike and his chopper, circa 1980

While the statue was created to symbolize the effects of the Euro-American settlers upon the Native Americans, the statue took on a completely different meaning, as I watched my uncle shuffle around his kitchen and living room. The Harley-Davidson riding, fully tattooed, gruff, and muscular uncle that I had always known, was now frail, low on energy, and exhausted.

As he shuffled around the house in overalls that seemed to hang from him – which he said were from many years ago when he was skinnier – and slippers, it was difficult not to focus on what cancer had done to him, yet the essence of him was still intact. He spent the afternoon struggling to move around, but was quick as ever when it came to throwing sarcastic jabs at us, in-between his 5-10 minute naps in his armchair. Whenever someone would throw one back his way, he’d just look at them and say, rather quietly, “Whatever, dude!”

Uncle Mike and the USMC

Michael Thurston’s trail began on October 9, 1952, in Tacoma, Washington. Right away, he was a hell raiser, goofing around and getting in trouble during his school years. One of my favorite stories of his infamous escapades was one time in high school, he and some buddies carried a faculty member’s Volkswagen Beetle up to the school roof. After high school, he enlisted in the United States Marine Corps, graduating from USMCRD in 1970.

Uncle Mike made a lot of bad decisions and he ended up spending a good chunk of my early childhood in and out of jail, but my favorite memory of him is from when he was released from San Quentin and was living with my Grandma T, when my mom and I went to spent the night with them. While my mom and grandma talked about who knows what, Uncle Mike and I went to a nearby store, bought a model jet fighter plane, and came home. We sat in his room building the model, watching the World Series (the Blue Jays were in it that year) and talked baseball and motorcycles. Uncle Mike was one of the few people who talked to us kids like we were equals – like we weren’t just little kids. When we talked, he would listen. Not just listen so we’d eventually shut up and go away, but he’d actually look you in the face and listen. When he spoke to you, you listened, usually because he would say things that your parents wouldn’t want him to, which is part of the reason us kids loved him so much.

Uncle Mike, with his son, “Little Mike,” his daughter-in-law, and his grandchildren.

In 2003, he married Cindy and in 2006, they moved to Caldwell, Idaho, a short drive from where my parents were living. Uncle Mike busted his ass all day, every day, and really took a loving to barbecuing and cooking for people. He saw how food made people happy and it gave him something new to focus on as his retirement approached. He looked forward to spending his days with his son and grandchildren, barbecuing, riding motorcycles, fishing, and relaxing. Even with cancer ravaging his once-strong body, he took pride in cooking up racks of ribs, beans, and an assortment of other things on the last remaining BBQs and smokers that he hadn’t preemptively sold off, so that my aunt wouldn’t have to do it when he was gone.

He lived life on his terms and in his own way and I always respected him for how he dealt with the ups and downs in life. He was a straight-shooter who expected the same from those around him. In 1996, Uncle Mike made the choice to get clean and sober and to finally kick the addictions that plagued him most of his teenage and adult life. Even when dealing with the debilitating pain of his cancers, he wouldn’t allow himself to use medical marijuana, because of a promise he had made decades ago:

“Spent most of my life doing this thing called life alone, my choice and the results of my actions so there’s no one to blame but myself. It took a long time for me to get my act squared away and I lost so much time with the family. Some times I wish I could just wave a wand and go back and change things but it’s all those learning lessons that made me who I am today. Kept my Momma on her knees for 30+ years hoping I’d wake up and straighten out. Thank God it happened in her life time. Made a promise to my Mom back in 96 when I got clean and sober that I wouldn’t go back to the lifestyle I’d come from that I’d die clean and sober. She got to see me for the last 17 years of her life happy and productive and I think she was proud of me when she passed two years back. People keep telling me to use pot to help with the cancer, that it will help me eat and help the pain and they’re probably right. I’m no moral giant and believe if it helps you I’m happy, I don’t and won’t for one simple reason, when I get to heaven and look my Momma in the eyes there’ll be at least one promise I’ll have made to her and kept and that’s important to me…cancer took her almost two years ago and she didn’t need it to help her, so if it was good enough for Momma it’s good enough for me.” – Uncle Mike, May 7, 2015

That’s the man I know as my uncle. Not the troublemaker teen or the young man who made stupid mistakes, but the man who found the good in every situation (“My first night in Quentin they served liver and onions for dinner and I thought, ‘Hell, this ain’t so bad!’“), especially in his clean and sober years where he worked to help other struggling addicts get in touch with sponsors who could help them on their path to sobriety.

Cancer is ruthless and it tries to take a person’s dignity and personality – the very essence of who they are. Every day that passed presented new obstacles for may aunt and uncle. Uncontrollable hiccups from his throat muscles failing. Confusion. Sleeping all day. Lack of control over his fingers when he tried to type updates on Facebook which he always started with, “Hi De Ho.”

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2015/09/08/remembering-uncle-mike-a-gruff-biker-with-a-big-heart/feed/0http://www.deguia.net/2015/09/08/remembering-uncle-mike-a-gruff-biker-with-a-big-heart/I Didn’t Really Believe in Ghosts or Alien Abductions, Until I Didhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/I2exOlptoZk/
http://www.deguia.net/2015/05/28/i-didnt-really-believe-in-ghosts-or-alien-abductions-until-i-did/#respondThu, 28 May 2015 21:31:06 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8796Strange things have been happening and I think it’s possible that I’m being visited by aliens, or our apartment is haunted. Sounds crazy, right? I know.

To get you to understand why I’ve come to the conclusion that I have, I thought it would be helpful to give you some backstory about the situation. We moved into our apartment in March of 2009, and shortly after we moved in and had everything unpacked, we noticed strange things happening:

Items would go disappearing.

When there was no wind blowing, picture frames would get knocked off of shelves.

During periods of time when the kids were gone or otherwise quietly occupied, my wife and I will occasionally hear children’s voices inside our apartment. This was after the neighborhood kids moved away, so it wasn’t outside noise coming in the windows.

One night, my wife and I were watching something on Netflix very late with our bedroom door closed. All of a sudden we heard what sounded like our son run from their bedroom, through the apartment, and into the kitchen. I got out of bed, expecting to see him getting some water or, worst case, feeling sick, only to find that nobody was in the kitchen and all of the lights were off. When I went into the kids’ room to check on them, all three of them were sound asleep, snoring away.

My wife is the first one awake in the mornings and she keeps the bathroom door closed when she showers, so that the rest of us can get a few more minutes of sleep. She was out of the shower and drying off, when she heard what she described as a man’s cough on the other side of the bathroom door. She said the voice was very deep – much deeper than my voice – and when she opened the door, nobody was there. Not too long ago, also early in the morning, she heard what sounded like a knock on the bathroom door. Again, when she opened the door, nobody was there and everyone was still asleep.

Our car’s upholstery is fabric, the kind where you can drag your finger or hand in the opposite direction than the surrounding fabric, to make an imprint. One day, my oldest and I were getting into our car when I looked down at her seat and saw, in the fabric pattern, an oddly-sized hand print. She always sat in the same seat and at the time, our younger two children were in car or booster seats, so they’d have no reason to even touch her seat in the car. It was just one hand print, going in an illogical direction (ie: not a direction that my daughter might have rested her hand for a moment) and the size was odd, too: Too small for my hand, but too large for hers.

Several months back, the building owners replaced all of the windows in all of the units in our apartment complex, and we have double-paned and pretty sound-proof windows now. Lately, my wife has been hearing noises and movement in the living room during the night and early morning hours. This happens even when the windows and doors are closed before we go to bed.

This is where things start to get really strange:

On October 21, 2014, I noticed bruises starting to appear on the underside of my wrists and the next day, I noticed that the arm hair where the bruises were had started growing back, as if they were shaved or burned off. Only nothing like that happened.

On the morning of January 11, 2005, I woke up with a vertical scratch about 3-4 inches in length on my left shoulder blade. The scratch was in a spot on my back that I can’t reach, especially at the same angle that the cut was made, so I know it wasn’t something I did in my sleep. The scratch itself was too thin to be from my wife’s fingernails and too thick to be from our cat. Not to mention, the cut was perfectly straight, painful, and took longer than usual to heal. After it was healed, a scar stayed behind.

Fast forward to Monday of this week (May 25th, 2015, Memorial Day), we had just done our laundry and since I like to hang-dry my shirts, there were three shirts hanging from the top of the door frame, surrounding the door to our bedroom. Two hangers were close together on the left side of the frame, and one hanger was hanging on the right side of the frame. It was late, around 11:30pm, my wife was fast asleep and I was still up watching Big Bang Theory in bed, when all of a sudden, the the hangers started moving, as if something big had rushed right past them, just outside of the threshold of our bedroom.

The movement went from left to right in a fluid, continuous movement. I got chills when I saw this happen because, while our bedroom windows were open, no wind was blowing and our window blinds weren’t moving at all. To make things even more real, our cat that was asleep on our bed suddenly woke up and was staring, alert into the hallway. Whatever happened wasn’t normal because it spooked our cat, too.

On Tuesday morning, May 26, 2015, I woke up feeling… odd. Normally I toss and turn a lot in my sleep. I also get very warm so I wake up to kick the blankets off of me, only to get cold later on in the night and have to wake up to pull the blankets back over me. Tuesday morning, though, I recall waking up in almost the exact same position that I last remember being in before I fell asleep. I remembered not waking up during the night, which is strange in and of itself. I also realized as the morning went on that the pain in my shoulder was in the same spot as the scar that I have from the mystery scratch from earlier this year.

My point with all of this? I’m not sure, other than to say that there’s been enough strange, unexplainable occurrences that I’m seriously starting to think that either we have a ghost (we lovingly call him “Toby,” from the Paranormal Activity movies) in the house and/or aliens are visiting us while we sleep.

I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous but seriously, what else could explain all of these strange things?

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2015/05/28/i-didnt-really-believe-in-ghosts-or-alien-abductions-until-i-did/feed/0http://www.deguia.net/2015/05/28/i-didnt-really-believe-in-ghosts-or-alien-abductions-until-i-did/Achievement Unlocked: Warrior Dash NorCal 2014http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/9jgko_NWcO8/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/10/25/achievement-unlocked-warrior-dash-norcal-2014/#commentsSat, 25 Oct 2014 21:29:00 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8751One of the things that I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, is to complete one of those obstacle course races. Earlier this year, I bit the bullet and registered for the Warrior Dash NorCal 2014 race – a 5k course with 12 obstacles. I trained pretty hard all year since I was very out of shape. The Warrior Dash race was my motivation to hit the gym regularly and to get my ass in gear.

Last Saturday, October 18th, was the day of the race. My wave time was 9:30am and at the start of the race, there’s a big ass hill and as it often goes with my luck, 2 or 3 minutes into the race I felt a pop in my right calf. I thought someone kicked me until the pain shot down my leg and I realized I couldn’t walk normally or bend my foot without excruciating pain. Long story short: I had torn my soleus muscle but made the decision (probably poorly so) to finish the race. I was angry that months of training and years of mustering up the courage to register to begin with, had all been thrown away 2 minutes into the race with a torn muscle.

So, I hobbled my way through the rest of the course, including all 12 obstacles. By the time I finished, I was exhausted and my right calf was very swollen. But I finished! It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t how I had wanted my first race to be, but at least I can say I didn’t give up.

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/10/25/achievement-unlocked-warrior-dash-norcal-2014/feed/1http://www.deguia.net/2014/10/25/achievement-unlocked-warrior-dash-norcal-2014/Ulysses Bucket Listhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/9VEQ3lH-Vsc/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/07/12/ulysses-bucket-list/#commentsSat, 12 Jul 2014 21:57:20 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8740I stumbled across a thread on Reddit where someone posed the question, “What story have you been dying to tell?” It seemed simple enough and I read through many of the responses and just when I was going to stop, I found this response by Reddit user Yoinkie2013. Yoinkie2013’s reply has gone on to become its own subreddit (/r/Ulyssesbucketlist) and there’s even a very cool story that resulted from him telling his own story. You should definitely take a few minutes and read it. You’ll feel warm and fuzzy and happy afterward.

The TL;DR version of it is this: Yoinkie2013 met a stranger, named Amanda, on a train when he was a teenager. They talked for a bit and when they parted ways a couple of hours later, Amanda said to him,

“Tell me something you have done, or want to do, that you think I should do. It can be anything, as challenging as you want it to be, or as easy. As long as you give me the rest of my life to complete it, I promise I will do it.”

He gave her the act of singing a song a capella in a room full of strangers.

Amanda gave him the act of reading from start to finish “Ulysses” by James Joyce.

Yoinkie2013 goes on to tell about how when he traveled to other places he would introduce people to the Ulysses Bucket List and ask them to give him an item to add to his Ulysses Bucket List and how carrying out those tasks opened him up to new experiences, challenged his will power, and helped him be a better person. I won’t spoil all the examples that Yoinkie2013 wrote about, but one that I liked in particular was:

I met a man in India 9 years ago who told me to, for a week or a month, cook/buy twice as much food as I intend on eating, and give the other half to a stranger in need. I completed that mission 8 years ago, and thought about that man and the time we had all the way through.

I love this idea! Tell me, in the comments below, something you have done or want to do, that you think I should do. It can be anything, as challenging as you want it to be, or as easy. As long as you give me the rest of my life to complete it, I promise I will try my best to do it.

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/07/12/ulysses-bucket-list/feed/2http://www.deguia.net/2014/07/12/ulysses-bucket-list/Oral-B Pays Tribute to the #PowerofDad in New Adhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/N-rQB6ezv5w/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/06/02/oral-b-pays-tribute-to-the-power-of-dad/#respondTue, 03 Jun 2014 00:34:12 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8727I love spending time with my kids but it’s increasingly difficult to actually have a conversation with them when they’re surrounded by devices with screens that steal their attention. Over Memorial Day weekend, my family and I went on our first camping trip of the year. It was a fun-filled weekend where we all got to spend time together, away from internet access, where we actually – GASP! – talked to each other!

We splashed around in creeks:

We roasted marshmallows and made s’mores over a campfire:

We even showed off our inner… I don’t know what:

It’s moments like these that power the biggest smiles. So this Father’s Day, Oral-B is celebrating fatherhood’s little moments and the dads that bring smiles to their families every day and that’s why I’m very excited to be partnering with them. Oral-B has taken a strong, pro-dad stance with their latest marketing campaign, which is a very welcome change!

In their second year of this Father’s Day program, P&G Oral Care has partnered with March of Dimes, a leading organization for healthy, happy families that celebrates mothers and fathers every day. P&G Oral Care is also joining forces with members of “Football’s First Family,” New York Giants’ quarterback Eli Manning, his father Archie and his daughter Ava – to celebrate fatherhood’s little moments.

You can watch their new video below and afterward, I invite you to share your favorite fatherhood moment and photo/video with #powerofdad!

Why Is Oral-B Doing All Of This?

Aside from being a brand dedicated to making people healthier by promoting good oral hygiene, Oral-B, the worldwide leader in the toothbrush market, is constantly improving their word hole-cleaning products. The coolest new product takes oral care to the extreme with the introduction of its newest and most technologically advanced power toothbrush, the Oral-B 7000 BLACK.

As the premium option for the Oral-B lineup, the Oral-B 7000 BLACK features Oral-B’s signature oscillating, rotating and pulsating technology and provides superior cleaning and a more personalized brushing experience compared to a regular manual toothbrush. With its sleek design and top of the line features, even the most discerning consumers will note, and benefit from, the unparalleled design and technology it offers.

Still not impressed? Feast your eyeballs on the features of this toothbrush!

Engineered To Perform

Oral-B’s signature oscillating, rotating and pulsating technology provides a superior tooth-by-tooth clean to remove up to two times more plaque than a regular manual toothbrush.

Features 8,800 oscillations per minute and 40,000 pulsations per minute to create shearing forces for excellent cleaning efficacy.

Six modes for a more personalized brushing experience including an extra “Tongue Cleaner Mode” along with standard Daily Clean, Deep Clean, Sensitive, Whitening, and Massage modes.

Quadrant pacing signals every 30 seconds to guide quadrant switching; at the end of two minutes a longer signal indicates when the dental professional recommended brushing time period has been reached.

SmartGuide wireless display with while-you-brush feedback to help you brush thoroughly, gently and for the dentist-recommended two minutes.

Indicator® bristles remind you to replace your brush head every 3 months, or once they’ve faded halfway.

Accelerates to top speed faster than a race car

Unparalleled Design

Features a premium travel case

Unique book style packaging

Pretty awesome, huh? If your old man has breath that could wake the dead, maybe it’s time to get that gadget-loving dad the gift of a healthier, cleaner smile with the new Oral-B 7000 BLACK! Still not convinced? Let’s sweeten the pot for you with a $7-off coupon. Just click the button below!

Disclosure: I partnered with Oral-B and Life of Dad, LLC for the #PowerofDad Father’s Day promotion and was compensated for my involvement. Unfortunately for my family, they didn’t send me an Oral-B 7000 BLACK, so it looks like I’m keeping my zombie breath.

I’m sure most of you have watched that “Free Hugs” video on YouTube, where Juan Mann gives out free hugs to passersby in a busy Australian concourse. We’ve watched as a stranger’s face lights up with a big smile when they get a random, unexpected hug.

While a lot of guys aren’t very comfortable vocalizing their feelings, and some men struggle with showing affection to the ones they love most, an easy way to show to your children that you love them is to give them a hug. Even when they don’t ask for one, most kids will be more than happy to accept a hug at any time, no matter what they may be doing.

Here are some times when I try to make it a point to hug my kids:

When they wake up. Who of us wouldn’t want to wake up and get a big hug? Mornings around our household are so chaotic, they often bend the limits of reality. I try to make it a point to give each of my kids a hug when they wake up for a couple of reasons: It helps make sure they don’t crawl back into bed to snooze, and it also helps them start the day in a good mood.

When I’m frustrated at them. This is something I’ve been trying to do when I’m about to lose my cool with them. When I feel myself reaching my boiling point, I try to remember to walk over and give them great big hugs. You’d be amazed at how a simple hug can melt away your anger and restore some balance to the moment. Most of the time.

When I walk in the door from work. I make it a point to give the kids a hug and kiss when I get home. More often than not it annoys my teenager because I interrupt her busy life of texting or messing with a her tablet, but the point is that my kids know I make a solid effort to search the house for them, usually before I even put down my bag.

Spontaneously. I like to keep my children on their toes. One way I do that is to suddenly call them over, in my “serious” Dad Voice. I have a lousy poker face so they usually figure out pretty quickly that I’m up to something. That’s when I pounce on them with a big bear hug – pretending to squeeze them as hard as I can possibly can. My son, the sick little monkey that he is, likes it when I pretend to squeeze him so hard that I break his back.

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/05/20/have-you-really-hugged-kids-today/feed/1http://www.deguia.net/2014/05/20/have-you-really-hugged-kids-today/My Open Letter To The Unemployedhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/uFihf53sJrU/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/05/14/my-open-letter-to-the-unemployed/#commentsWed, 14 May 2014 19:56:51 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8709In 2010, I left a job of five years from what seemed like my dream job. I started in January of 2011 and in March of 2011 they laid me off as they restructured. I was unemployed for the next 25 months before finding a new job. Over those two years and one month, I […]]]>

In 2010, I left a job of five years from what seemed like my dream job. I started in January of 2011 and in March of 2011 they laid me off as they restructured. I was unemployed for the next 25 months before finding a new job.

Over those two years and one month, I can count on both hands how many places I was able to land an interview with, even though I was applying for at least jobs a week within a 60-mile radius from where I live. Some interviews were multiple phone interviews, while others were several in-person interviews – each was spread out over weeks and gave you hope that things would change. My unemployment benefits had run out months before I found a new job and we were scrimping by in every sense of the word. I won’t go into details, but it was some of the most constant, crushing stress I’ve ever experienced.

I want to thank some dad bloggers I know who encouraged me to write this post, instead of only sharing my story and advice behind the confines of private discussion groups.

As someone who has “been there,” I can empathize with other people – especially other fathers and husbands – who find themselves either unexpectedly out of work, or in the midst of long-term unemployment. While I can’t make the problem go away, I wanted to talk about what helped me deal with long-term unemployment, and also share what I wish I had done differently, so you don’t make the same mistakes that I did.

The most important thing is to never stop looking. I know, I know, you’re probably tired of hearing this and the statement oozes with overuse. But seriously, never stop applying for jobs. Never stop networking. Never stop talking with other parents at your kid’s school. Never stop smiling and looking for opportunities masquerading as chump work. If I had stopped looking for a job after the last “Thank you for your interest, however you weren’t chosen for the position” email, then I never would have applied for the job I have now – which I love.

Being unemployed and searching for jobs will be discouraging as hell. You will want to bash your head against the wall just to end your own misery and shame. You will want to run screaming into the hills, thinking your family will be better off without your dead-beat, out-of-work ass taking up space. But you’re wrong.

Staying in the ring and taking the blows as they come will show everyone what you’re made of. There’s a lesson in everything and the real lesson in being long-term unemployed is finding out how mighty you really are and how much you can handle. With each setback, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and tell life, “You hit like a bitch.”

When you’re unemployed, get your ass out of bed every day like you would if you had a job.

Shower.

Shave.

Get dressed.

Put on shoes.

Be the first one up so you can greet your family with a smile and a hug in the mornings.

Make the coffee for your spouse before they leave for work.

Clean the house.

Be active.

Don’t sit at home all day wallowing in self-pity because that won’t change a damned thing. It might feel good at the time, but I promise you that at the end of the day, looking back on a sluggish day of missed potential is far more demoralizing than looking back at productive day where you tried to make the most of a shitty situation.

Live lean.

Be ambitious.

Be optimistic that you are capable of finding some way to provide for your family. This mess that you’re in can’t and won’t last forever – you won’t let it last forever!

Look at every “failed” interview as an opportunity to get better at interviewing.

You are a hungry wolf on the prowl for the next thing to sink your teeth into. Wolves don’t lay down and quit!

Eventually you’ll find something, even if it’s just a stepping stone to the thing you really want to do. In the meantime, be an involved dad and spouse because once you find a job, you’ll look back on the time you have now with “nothing to do” and wish you took more advantage of it. I look back at the two years I had and lament how much time I let go by without making the most of it.

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/05/14/my-open-letter-to-the-unemployed/feed/2http://www.deguia.net/2014/05/14/my-open-letter-to-the-unemployed/Will You Help Me Support the Children of St. Jude?http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/vvzldrPrDwg/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/03/30/help-support-children-st-jude/#commentsSun, 30 Mar 2014 23:07:52 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8698

When my grandmother passed away last summer, I wrote about her legacy and how it inspired me to step outside my comfort zone and live life to the fullest. One of the things I’ve wanted to do for several years, is to take part in one of those obstacle course races – a la Tough Mudder and the Spartan Race. Not having any racing experience since my junior high cross-country days, I figured the Warrior Dash was a good place to start.

In October, I’ll be participating in the NorCal Warrior Dash – 3.2 mountainous miles with 13 obstacles – and I jumped at the opportunity to raise money for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. My grandmother passed away from very aggressive cancer and, while St. Jude focuses on children, her experience put things into perspective for me. As a dad of three children, I can’t imagine what it must be like for one of your own kids to have cancer. At St. Jude, no family has to pay a single dollar for treatment.

This Warrior Dash race is just something fun for me to do, but if I can help make a difference and support St. Jude patients and their families, while crawling through mud and jumping through fire, then I’m totally on board with that! The race is still quite ways off, but I’m already close to my first fundraising goal of $300.00 and I’m hoping to surpass that!

Any donation that you’re able and willing to make to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital will help them give care to their patients and you can make a donation using the button below!

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/03/30/help-support-children-st-jude/feed/1http://www.deguia.net/2014/03/30/help-support-children-st-jude/You Gotta Be Like The Palm Treehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/HAPXSXOO5Co/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/02/13/you-gotta-be-like-the-palm-tree/#respondFri, 14 Feb 2014 06:35:22 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8688I’m seven years old, sitting at our family’s dining room table. My sister was there, too. I don’t remember what we had done, but what I do remember is how that day went down in the annals of our family history forever. “You have to be like the palm tree,” my dad started, “the mighty […]]]>I’m seven years old, sitting at our family’s dining room table. My sister was there, too. I don’t remember what we had done, but what I do remember is how that day went down in the annals of our family history forever.

“You have to be like the palm tree,” my dad started, “the mighty palm tree withstands all kinds of obstacles.”

My sister and I exchanged confused looks. One more look at our father confirmed our horrified suspicion – Dad was just getting started. Our dad was an almost legendary lecturer. Not in any university’s lecture hall, mind you, but in the lecture hall of our home, wherever he felt it was required. In the hallway. In the garage. This time, it was in the dining room. It didn’t matter where we were or who was around, if we screwed up, we knew a good lecture was coming. Today, though, dad was really into it.

A few minutes into this latest lecture, he had his arms up over his head, fingers spread out to mimic the leaves of a palm tree rustling in the wind, and he was actually swaying back and forth. Or “to and fro” as he referred to it.

“When the hurricane winds blow, does the palm tree break? No it does not! It stands there and weathers the winds that threaten to break it. When the torrential rains of the monsoon come and try to drown everything, does the palm tree fall? No it doesn’t! It stands there and weathers the storm.

“When life gets tough or things get difficult, will you be like the mighty palm tree or will you break to the pressure and fall? Me… I’m like the mighty palm tree. When I was growing up with three siblings and divorced parents, things were tough, but I dealt with it and persevered. When I was in the Navy, stuck on a ship for months at a time, with nothing but water all around me, we all had to be like the palm tree.

“When I get home from working a long day at work and I have to deal with your kids’ attitudes and the trouble you made, I have a choice to make – Do I act like the palm tree, swaying to and fro, to and fro, or do I break?”

By this point, my sister interrupted, “Dad, can you please just spank me or ground me to my room already?”

Our dad, to his credit, really picked the best times to truly see what the best punishment would be for either one of us. He looked down at her, arms and fingers still splayed out at the sides of his head, and said, “No. You need to be like the palm tree and go with the flow. And wait until I’m finished.”

As he kept talking, I looked around our stuck-in-the-1970s dining room, with its dark wood paneling along the wall in front of me. The wall behind my dad, who was standing to my right at the head of the table, was covered floor-to-ceiling with a tacky orange, white and brown wallpaper depicting gaudy baskets and cornucopias of food. Along the wall to my left was the strange half-wall which was topped with painted shutters that actually opened and closed, separating the dining room from the kitchen.

I realized then that I had chosen the wrong seat at the table for this. At least my sister could look out through the sliding glass door behind me into the backyard to watch our dog run around and pull the wooden lattice work off of the covered patio. My dad’s swaying to and fro snapped my attention back to the hell we were trapped in.

“…sometimes you just gotta be like our friend, the mighty palm tree. Understand?” my dad asked.

At some point, our mother had crept out of the room while our dad wasn’t looking. All allegiances were waved off once a lecture was in progress.

]]>http://www.deguia.net/2014/02/13/you-gotta-be-like-the-palm-tree/feed/0http://www.deguia.net/2014/02/13/you-gotta-be-like-the-palm-tree/Untitled Short Writinghttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/deguia/~3/s3AGEwNxGnA/
http://www.deguia.net/2014/01/13/untitled-short-writing/#respondTue, 14 Jan 2014 05:39:00 +0000http://www.deguia.net/?p=8669In an effort to keep moving forward with writing, here’s a brain-dump of something I’ve been kicking around my head for the past few days:

My name is Liam Torbaugh. I was named after my father’s brother, who he only met once when he was a child.

Shortly after my Uncle Liam was delivered in the hospital, God seemed to change his mind and took the baby boy away. Liam’s last, shallow breath left his tiny lungs and his hazel-colored eyes, fixed upon a much younger version of my father, slowly closed for the last time as my father held his fragile baby brother in his arms. Dad was six years old at the time. Every major event in his life since that cold February morning so many years ago, dad claimed that his little brother was there with him, watching and protecting. He could feel his presence.

“Just my luck,” my father used to say, “my guardian angel is a 27-minute-old infant.”

My father became ill and was overrun by aggressive lung cancer six months ago. The ironic part was that my father never smoked. Cigarette smoke made him violently ill, which brought him endless ridicule from his co-workers.

He used to get up very early in the morning, heft on his thick coat, pull on his cap and head out the door with his work gloves gripped firmly in one hand and his thermos of coffee in the other. Dad was a dockworker, or so I had been told, and he always came home tired as a whipped mule. It wasn’t until after he died that I came to learn that working at the docks wasn’t all dad did.

“What about your mother?” you might be wondering. Well, dear old mom found more joy with a bottle of whiskey than she ever did being a mother. Maker’s Mark was her drink of choice. Mom never left us, although she may as well have, since she was rarely more involved in my upbringing than the coat rack that stood silent by the front door for all those years, watching it all unfold.